eir
own privilege."

"Many things can often be felt and expressed by an able woman better
than by a man, and there is no reason that the utterance of anything
worthy to be said should be denied, provided it is worthy to be said."

"Ah! there comes the hit. I wondered if you would get through without
it."

"It was not meant as a hit. Men are as apt to publish what is not worth
saying as women can be, and some women are so conscientious as only to
put forth what is of weight and value."

"And you are above wanting to silence them by palaver about unfeminine
publicity?"

"There is no need of publicity. Much of the best and most wide-spread
writing emanates from the most quiet, unsuspected quarters."

"That is the benefit of an anonymous press."

"Yes. The withholding of the name prevents well-mannered people from
treating a woman as an authoress, if she does not proclaim herself one;
and the difference is great between being known to write, and setting up
for an authoress."

"Between fact and pretension. But write or not write, there is an
instinctive avoidance of an intellectual woman."

"Not always, for the simple manner that goes with real superiority is
generally very attractive. The larger and deeper the mind, the more
there would be of the genuine humbleness and gentleness that a shallow
nature is incapable of. The very word humility presupposes depth."

"I see what you mean," said Rachel. "Gentleness is not feebleness, nor
lowness lowliness. There must be something held back."

"I see it daily," said Colonel Keith; and for a moment he seemed
about to add something, but checked himself, and took advantage of an
interruption to change the conversation.

"Superior natures lowly and gentle!" said Rachel to herself. "Am I so
to him, then, or is he deceiving himself? What is to be done? At my age!
Such a contravention of my principles! A soldier, an honourable, a title
in prospect, Fanny's major! Intolerable! No, no! My property absorbed by
a Scotch peerage, when I want it for so many things! Never. I am sorry
for him though. It is hard that a man who can forgive a woman for
intellect, should be thrown back on poor little Fanny; and it is
gratifying--. But I am untouched yet, and I will take care of myself.
At my age a woman who loves at all, loves with all the gathered force of
her nature, and I certainly feel no such passion. No, certainly not; and
I am resolved not to be swept along till I have made up m